


These Bittersweet Memories (the Tripping Down Memory Lane Remix)

by InTheShadows



Series: Destiny Has Blue Eyes [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon Era, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Good Mordred (Merlin), Magic Revealed, Mordred Needs A Hug, Mordred's Hero Worship of Merlin, Mordred-centric (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Random & Short, Remix, but also more serious than i expected too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 21:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: When Mordred uses magic to save Arthur's life, he knows that it is a serious situation. If he had been thinking clearly - or at all - he would have found another way. As he has has just used magic, in front of the King of Camelot in a land where magic is illegal. So why is Emrys laughing about it then? (And just how hard did he hit his head?)





	These Bittersweet Memories (the Tripping Down Memory Lane Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tripping Down Memory Lane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20929142) by [InTheShadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows). 

> Did I remix my own work just so I could finally have a story in Mordred's point of view? Don't be ridiculous. <s>Of course I did, what else does this look like?</s>

Mordred doesn’t even stop to think before he acts. It’s instinctive, a movement he hasn't used in years. Even before Camelot, before becoming a knight, his use of magic was almost forgotten. Neglected rather, because he can never forget the power running through him. He doesn’t use it much anymore though. Not since he has learned to fight with the sword. Not since he learned it was less dangerous to survive without magic then with it. 

But when he sees the creature - some form of barghest, but not exactly as far as any of them had been able to figure out - rears up over a fallen Arthur, ready to tear him apart something in Mordred panics and he acts. Maybe he would not have acted like that if any of the others were closer, able to help. Maybe he would not have panicked if Emrys had not just been thrown into a tree moments before. After all, it's not as if he has not had a lifetime of danger to supposedly cure him of just this. The combination of all three things however prove him wrong. 

His magic reacts instantly, sending his sword through the creature’s chest as he flings it away from Arthur at the same time. He doesn’t even fully realize what he has done until it is over. He freezes, arm still outstretched, his actions registering in his mind. Around him it is the same. As if he had cast something very different and froze the world around him. That does not stop the tension from rising though. It fills the air around them, threatening to suffocate Mordred. Drag him down with their hate and confusion and betrayal. 

From the corner of his eye he sees Emrys’ move and cannot help the wave of relief he feels. Just because Emrys does not like him - nor trust him - does not mean the same is true for him. He has huge respect for Emrys, he always has. Well, not always. He still remembers when Emrys tried to kill him. How that had burned. How he had vowed revenge at that. How betrayed and confused he had been. But at the same time he grew up on stories of Emrys. Held onto the hope he represented. And as he grew and matured he learned just how hard situations can be. No one can be perfect, not even Emrys. 

He has made it his mission to eventually win his trust. It would be a joy and not only because Emrys is his childhood hero. It is lonely, having the only magic user in Camelot hate you. There is no one to talk to who knows who he truly is. No one who knows and accepts all he is. The knights - they are becoming family. And Arthur - well Arthur is everything Mordred could have imagined and more. He is as determined to impress Arthur as he is Emrys. Never before has anyone been able to win Mordred’s loyalty so quickly and so thoroughly. It is not something he regrets though. Just as he does not regret saving Arthur now, no matter what the consequences may be. 

Everyone is staring at him now, analyzing him. It is easy to read their thoughts on their faces. None of them are bothering to hide what they think of this - of him - right now. It’s not exactly complimentary. It’s not as if he expected otherwise. Camelot’s view of magic is only too clear and too depressing to linger on for long. It’s not just that it is against the law. It is the fear and mistrust people show when it is mentioned. Magic can be used for good, for wonders and miracles, but they do not see that. All they see is the dreaded gold in their eyes. 

Emrys is the easiest to look at out of everyone. There is no betrayal, no wariness on his face. Only curiosity. Curiosity of what he isn’t exactly sure. How this will turn out perhaps. Mordred would like to think that Emrys will defend him if it comes down to it. That he won’t let Mordred die. But that may be wishful thinking on his part. A dark part of his mind wonders if maybe Emrys would be glad to see him dead. 

Arthur’s expression, on the other hand, is the hardest to look at. It hurts to see him express the same hatred and shock as the others. The anger and distrust that darkens his face. It hurts because he has let Arthur in too far now. It hurts because what if this is the end. It is not death he fears, but the loss of what he has gained since he has been knighted. 

“You have magic?” Arthur’s question is like a sword through his heart. It would be easier to bear the sword than this. His hand flexes around the hilt of Excalibur. 

Mordred nods, hiding all that he feels behind his mask of blankness. It has become a habit over the years and one he has perfected. He knows that it gives nothing away. 

His answer only makes the darkness on Arthur’s face grow. It is a warning of nothing good to come. His emotions are building like a blocked dam, ready to burst. He takes a step forward, but then stops as if he cannot bear to go any farther. “You have magic,” he repeats, voice hard, “How dare you-” 

He is interrupted by Emrys of all people. Not because he is defending Mordred no, but because he is - laughing of all things. It starts off as a snort and then a cough and then full out laughter. Giggling really. That is definitely more of a giggle than a laugh. What in the world? He is torn between being offended and concerned. Just what about this situation is funny in the least? Does he want to see Mordred dead that badly? 

It does take all of the attention off of him though, which he is grateful for. Being the center of that much attention makes him uncomfortable. Experience has taught him that it never means anything good. There have been rare few exceptions to this to prove him wrong. He glances around, seeing how everyone’s expression changes to concerned instead. All of the knights are loyal to Emrys as well as Arthur. They make it no secret that they consider him one of their own. It is too easy to love Emrys. 

“Merlin,” Arthur asks slowly, “have you finally lost your mind?” 

And that... is just typical. Watching Emrys and Arthur interact is fascinating truth be told. They have one of the oddest relationships Mordred has ever seen. Whether it is because they have known each other for so long or because their communication skills are... somewhat lacking when it comes to each other, it is always interesting to watch. 

Emrys waves a hand to reassure them, but it doesn’t help. Not at all. 

He is still giggling uncontrollably, which is starting to worry him. What if something is actually wrong? What if that hit to the head did more damage than any of them know yet? ‘Emrys?’ he cannot help but ask, silently reaching out. Always reaching out, even when he is dismissed time and time again. 

Emrys winces slightly, barely enough to be noticed, which is answer in and of itself, but still shakes his head. Finally he gets himself under control enough to gasp out, “Honestly you prat, how can you  _ not _ know?” 

Wait - what? Before he can react - before any of them can - Emrys continues. 

“He  _ told _ you who he was. Is your memory  _ that _ bad? Just how many kids did you rescue before this? It couldn’t have been that many. And even if you had, how could you forget the creepy, if cute, boy we smuggled out of the castle?” 

_ What _ ?  _ Creepy boy _ ? He was  _ not _ creepy as a child. He can admit that he was a little intense sometimes, and not the best socialized, but at the time he had been wounded and hunted and then had just felt his guardian die. Then, on top of everything, he had developed an infection, making the situation even worse. Excuse him if he had been a bit out of it at the time. And, yes, the next couple of times he  _ may _ have been a bit odd, but this was  _ Emrys _ he was talking to. The one who would bring magic back to the land along with the Once and Future King. Then, the next time, Emrys was trying to kill him. It’s not his fault that he was... well... hmmm... 

Fine, yes, he knows he was an odd child. That doesn’t mean he likes hearing himself called such. 

“Sorry,” Merlin shrugs, “but you were. I mean the whole,” he waves a hand, presumably meaning his telepathic speech without actually mentioning it, “and the eyes and the overall intensity. Cute but you were definitely creepy.” And then he starts giggling again. 

Really now. This is just insulting. There is no need to add salt to the wound. 

But now Arthur is frowning, looking between him and Merlin with an intense look of concentration on his face. “Just what are you babbling on about?” he snaps. 

“ _ Mordred _ ,” Merlin repeats, “The little boy Uther was going to kill? The one you, me and Morgana saved? I know it was years ago, but keep up clotpole.” 

“Mordred?” Arthur frowns, obviously trying to remember, before he visibly perks up, having figured it out, “You mean-” 

Merlin nods. “Yes I mean. The  _ druid _ \- emphasis on druid - boy. And I know not all druids are magical,” 

That’s - not exactly right and in that moment it hits Mordred just how little Emrys seems to know, despite his power. Has he had anyone besides Gaius to teach him? Has he had any opportunity to interact with the magical community at all? Or has he been isolated his entire life, having no one else but himself to depend on to deal with his magic? How... how has no one offered their help by now? Even Mordred was taught as a child before everything went wrong. Just how alone is Emrys? Has he ever known anything else? The realization is staggering and not something he can think about right now. 

Merlin continues, “but seeing as how you did save him you should have known.” He pauses, frowning at Arthur. “Should I have reminded you?” 

Arthur throws his hands into the air, the perfect picture of exasperation. “Yes Merlin that is something you should have mentioned.” 

“Oh. Right,” he blinks, “Mordred is a druid,” he says calmly. 

Off to the side one of the knights snorts in laughter and Mordred glances over to see it is Gwaine, not even trying to hide his amusement. He can’t say that he blames him. This is getting a bit ridiculous. Does anyone even remember why they are having this conversation to begin with? Or have Emrys and Arthur completely taken them off track? 

Arthur makes a noise deep in his throat. 

Emrys ignores him. “It isn’t Mordred’s fault you have such a bad memory. Although you probably can’t help it, what with all your head injuries over the years.” He reaches behind his head with a frown of annoyance. His fingers are covered in blood when he pulls it back. He doesn’t react. 

That’s alright because Arthur reacts enough for the both of them. “Merlin!” he shouts. 

“Not so loud,” Emrys complains with a wince, “I’m fine. Who’s the healer’s apprentice around here? And how many times have I checked yours? I can tell that it’s nothing serious. It looks worse than it is, with all the blood.” 

“Will you stop mentioning that,” Arthur grumbles as he walks over to stand next to him, examining the wound for himself. 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he repeats in exasperation as he pulls Arthur’s hand, “It aches and I’m a bit off when it comes to appropriate conversation, but I’m in no danger of passing out. It only needs to be cleaned and maybe -  _ maybe  _ \- stitched. That’s all. You’ve had worse and you’re still here.” 

Arthur turns to him. “Can you heal it?” he asks.

The question surprises Mordred, but at the same time it doesn’t. It is clear to anyone who bothers to look just how much Arthur cares about Emrys - even if he is terrible at showing it some days. This is the most extreme example he has seen so far - that Arthur is prepared to trust magic, just to help Emrys - but not the first by any standard. He is only sorry that he cannot. He does not have anywhere near enough training to do so. 

But before he can answer Emrys groans. “Stop being such a fusspot Arthur. I’m not in danger of any kind except the headache I currently have.”

“A fusspot?” Arthur asks, clearly offended. 

Emrys nods. “A fusspot. That’s the one thing no one ever mentions about you, even when they should. The king of Camelot - an insufferable fusspot.” He glares and crosses his arms.

And now all of the knights are laughing and failing to hide it. Gwaine, of course, is the worst of them all, but by no means is he alone. Even Leon is visibly amused. It seems as if they really have forgotten how this conversation began. That’s... both worrying and reassuring to be honest. 

“Healing is not my strong suit,” he is finally given the chance to answer, glancing between Arthur and Emrys cautiously. 

But Emrys just smiles at him reassuringly, which is a first, “Don’t worry about it. Arthur is just being dramatic.” 

“Dramatic,” Arthur huffs, “And Mordred,” he says pointedly, “don’t think I have forgotten about you.” There is a hard edge to his tone. 

Mordred looks down at the ground. Oh. So he hasn’t then. Right. 

But then he continues, “However you did save my life. Thank you.” He awkwardly clears his throat. “We will talk when we reach the castle.” 

“Yes Sire,” Mordred says, feeling much more hopeful suddenly. Maybe, just maybe, he can afford to hope everything will turn out alright. 

“Arthur,” he corrects. 

“Arthur,” Mordred nods. 

Emrys rolls his eyes and Mordred honestly isn’t sure which of them it is directed at. “Oblivious prat,” he mutters as he goes to join the rest of the knights. There is obviously something bothering him, but Mordred isn’t sure what. And Arthur, true to Emrys’ words, doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I heard that,” Arthur calls after him. 

“Good,” Emrys answers firmly, going over to Gwaine, which is all the confirmation Mordred needs. It’s no secret that Emrys is the one who holds Gwaine’s loyalties first, before Arthur. It doesn’t make him less loyal to Arthur, less of a knight, but the line is there. Emrys is first. 

“Don’t worry Merls, you’re still my favorite,” he says as if to confirm Mordred’s thoughts, throwing an arm around his shoulders. 

Emrys leans into the touch, laughing. 

Something in Mordred aches at the sight, even if he does not fully understand why. Just what will he have to do to prove himself? And what can he do to help make Emrys smile again? 


End file.
